


Fever

by Werelibrarian



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Sickfic, questionable medical advice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 00:30:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17032851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Werelibrarian/pseuds/Werelibrarian
Summary: “Did WebMD tell you to do this?”“No, I figured it out on my own.” Please don’t ask how, Foggy prayed. It had been just before exam season, his third year of law school, when he caught a killer head cold. He'd more or less had the apartment to himself since Matt had protectively clapped a hand over his mouth and nose and declared his intention to live at the library, and with nothing to do but cough, eat oranges, sleep, and nurse his ridiculous crush on his flatmate, well. Foggy had made an interesting discovery.“Did it work?”Foggy tried not to blush. “Oh yeah.”





	Fever

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for tumblr user Bravinto

In the ten years of Nelson and Murdock, there had been fights, and then there had been _fights_.

Foggy grabbed Matt by the arm. "You are a goddamn liar and I'm not falling for it this time."

Matt yanked his arm away, nearly tripping over his feet in the process, but Foggy's furious grip held. "What the hell would you know about it anyway? Get your hand off me or I'll do it for you."

Pressing his lips together in an angry line, Foggy shoved Matt onto the bed and held his hips down with his knees. He pinched Matt's earlobe against a struggle and jammed the thermometer in.

_beep beep_

"101.9. You have a goddamn fever," Foggy insisted, while Matt went "no no no," like a toddler. "Oh, you don't think so? Break my grip." While one of Foggy's hands had brandished the thermometer, the other had captured Matt's wrists.

Matt grit his teeth and pulled. Foggy's fingers were straining and turning red but just as his thumb was about to slip, all the fight went out of Matt. "Foggy, I'm sick," he coughed piteously. 

Foggy punched the air. A second later, he slapped his forehead, because getting Matt to admit to feeling less than fine was a victory, but now he had a sick, whiny best friend to deal with. "I know, buddy," he sighed, and settled a blanket over Matt.

***

The fever was in Matt's bones. Foggy could tell from the way he lay uncomfortably in the bed, face down, shoulders and hips hiked up like a semi-collapsed circus tent, the muscles of his calves hard as rocks.

"Everything stinks," Matt croaked.

"Hate to break it to you, but that's all you," Foggy said, curling Matt's palms around a mug of soup, "I've called Claire. She'll get Jessica to cover your patch tonight."

Matt growled. Foggy knew it wasn't good enough. Matt could read Hell's Kitchen as easily as Foggy read the thermometer, and he could tell when he needed to be out there to hold back the tide and when he could take a night off. Tonight wasn't one of those nights.

"I have to be out there, Foggy."

"I know, buddy. I know a way to break your fever, but it has the potential to get really weird."

Matt bit the rim of the mug like he wanted to feel something shatter in his teeth. "Fine."

***

Step one was a change of bedsheets, because Foggy was lying earlier, it wasn't just Matt, it was his miasma of sick permeating the whole bedroom. Step two was a shower, because he was going to sweat a lot more before they were through. Foggy helped him hobble, bent over like an old man, to the sofa, and made him chug a hot toddy.

"Lemon for health, honey to sooth, whiskey to numb," Foggy recited as he shoved cloves and a piece of cinnamon into a lemon slice, plopped a dollop of honey and a double shot of whiskey to a cup and drowned it all in boiling water. Matt made a disgusted face as the alcohol fumes hit him.

"As soon as it doesn't burn, down the hatch," Foggy ordered.

When Foggy returned with an armful of greasy, sweat-clotted bedding, Matt had face-planted into the middle seat of the sofa. The empty mug dangled from his fingers.

"Gonna kill you," Matt's threat was muffled by upholstery. Foggy may have failed to mention that something about lemon and hot water made two shots of whiskey feel like seven.

"Yeah yeah, love you too." He got Matt's arm over his shoulder and half-carried him back to bed.

Matt sighed when Foggy laid him out atop fresh sheets and pulled the blankets up to his chin. He held still for the thermometer, but his fever had only gone down three tenths of a degree in the last few hours. Pretty good for normal humans, but not for Matt.

"Ok, here's the weird part. I've turned up the heat and you're going to sweat this out."

"Kay," Matt mumbled. His eyes were closed but his face was still tense with pain.

"And I'm getting in the bed with you."

Matt opened one suspicious eye, which was just pure theatrics. "Why?"

"Because…"

"Because?"

"Because…" Foggy took a deep breath, "because I'm gonna jerk you off until your fever breaks."

Matt's other eye opened. "Did WebMD tell you to do this?"

"No, I figured it out on my own." Please don't ask how, Foggy prayed. It had been just before exam season, his third year of law school, when he caught a killer head cold. He'd more or less had the apartment to himself since Matt had protectively clapped a hand over his mouth and nose and declared his intention to live at the library, and with nothing to do but cough, eat oranges, sleep, and nurse his ridiculous crush on his flatmate, well. Foggy had made an interesting discovery.

"Did it work?"

Foggy tried not to blush. "Oh, yeah."

Matt raised an eyebrow. "That's pretty weird."

***

Round one was relatively clinical. Foggy put Matt on his side with a knee propped on a pillow and rolled a condom down Matt's half hard-on with the blanket pulled up to both their chins. Matt sighed and hummed as Foggy's hand shuffled gently up and down his shaft, his hips hitching minutely. With a shaky grunt, he filled the condom and fell asleep.

Foggy cleaned him up and bundled the condom into the trash without ever peeling back the blanket.

Round two was a few hours later, and Matt had trouble getting it up.

"I'm sick!"

"I'm not laughing," Foggy, now down to his shorts, assured. He reached under the blanket and pulled Matt's underwear back up over his soft cock before rolling Matt onto his stomach.

Heat cranked up even further, Foggy proceeded to rub the fever out of Matt's legs. He pressed down on Matt's spine to make his vertebrae pop (his moans were throaty and heartfelt, and Foggy nearly bit through his tongue), and dug fingers into his shoulders to loosen the joints.

When he trailed his oily hands down over Matt's chest, it didn't feel at all clinical. "Fuck," Matt breathed, as Foggy's palms grazed his nipples.

"Doin' good, buddy."

When Foggy reached for another condom, Matt nabbed it out of his grip. "Can you…without?"

"Yeah, Matt." Foggy pulled the blanket up to Matt's chest and reached underneath.

Matt went from semi-erect to throbbing the second Foggy put bare skin on him, and he fucked into Foggy's hand, groaning each time he bottomed out. Sweat beaded his forehead, and his legs churned under the blanket. He half turned onto his back and grabbed at Foggy.

"Foggy, can you—" he bit off his own words, flushing crimson.

"I'll do it, what is it?" Foggy was hard against Matt's rump—he tried to shuffle away but Matt kept pushing back into him, so eventually he just went with it.

"Put your fingers in me."

Foggy inhaled hard, and felt his own forehead prickle with sweat. Under the blanket, he found the lube and stroked a slick circle around Matt's hole.

"Yes yes yes," Matt chanted, as he pressed in with two fingers.

"Is that the spot, Matt?" Foggy murmured in his ear when Matt stiffened with a gasp, "your little love-button?"

Matt burst out laughing, which was just what Foggy wanted. He massaged Matt's prostate while stripping his cock and repeating "little love-button" into Matt's sweat-damp shoulder.

Matt laughed, and coughed, and orgasmed all at once, and if Foggy's hands hadn't been occupied, he'd have punched the air again.

Matt seemed better after a couple orgasms and a couple naps. He was relaxed into the bed instead of a stiff shard of pain on top of it and he had opened his eyes and smiled when Foggy had made the bed dip on either side of his blanketed hips.

"Hey."

"Hey." Foggy couldn't stop smiling. Matt looked awful. His eyes were red rimmed and his skin was still sallow, which made his stubble look patchy. His sweaty hair was flat on one side and nearly vertical on the other, and Foggy was falling in love. "You look better. Do you feel better?"

"A little. Where's the thing that beeps?" Foggy took Matt's temperature again: 100.6.

"You wanna stop now?" Foggy asked. Soup and more sleep and maybe another hot toddy, and Matt could be alright by tomorrow night.

Matt blinked. "Do you?"

"It's your fever, Matt."

Matt bit his lip to hide a slow grin, and Foggy was already sliding under the blanket.

***

Round three made Matt stream with sweat. Foggy had taken care of himself in the bathroom while Matt napped, so this time he was _patient_.

"Foggy, I need more," Matt's head rocked back on Foggy's shoulder and he had the blanket held in two fists under his chin.

Underneath, Foggy's knees kept Matt's legs apart while he dipped two fingers into Matt's ass. The fingers of his left hand were tight tight tight around the base of Matt's cock, which was scalding hot, even compared to the rest of his feverish body.

"You sure?" Foggy panted. Matt nodded, and Foggy eased in a third finger. His hand-job technique could only be called flighty: he stroked inside languidly for a few seconds before rolling Matt's testicles in his hand, then running his finger around Matt's cock-head like he was trying to make glass sing.

This must have been what it was like for Matt—learning someone's body by touch alone. He traced a throbbing vein from the depths of Matt's pubic hair all the way up and felt how the thickness of Matt's cock forced the ring of his thumb and index finger apart as he slid his hand up and down.

Sweat rolled off Matt's face onto Foggy's; it trickled down his abs and gathered in the crook of Foggy's elbow.

"Now," Matt puffed against Foggy's neck.

"You're fine," Foggy disagreed, stroking the pads of three fingers over Matt's soft, yielding hole. Matt keened. "Say please."

Foggy wasn't sure where that came from. Maybe he wanted to stretch this out longer, maybe he just wanted to hear Matt struggle with his own pride. But ever a surprise, Matt turned his head, kissed Foggy's jaw, and said,

"Please, Foggy, fuck me." His lips touched the corner of Foggy's mouth.

Groaning, Foggy captured Matt's lips and pumped his fingers. Matt's full-body shiver sent droplets of sweat flying and there was real strength in the way he pulled Foggy deeper into the kiss.

When he broke away, Foggy was the one panting. "Ready to come, Matt?"

"Was ready half an hour ago," Matt chewed out, "kiss me again, you heartless bastard."

Foggy let his cock-ring grip soften, jacked him twice, and Matt came gasping into Foggy's mouth.

"There you go, you were great," Foggy muttered, smooching Matt softly as he floated back to earth.

***

After that, Matt was on his elbows and knees, swearing up down and sideways he couldn't come again. He was filthy, fresh sweat laid over dried and dripping from his wet hair.

Foggy had a corner of the blankets lifted to let his arms in and was four fingers deep while he tugged at Matt's cock.

"I can't, Foggy," His thighs were shaking, and Foggy knew it was a different sort of shake than not being able to walk to the sofa.

"You can, buddy. I know you can."

Foggy worked Matt for close to an hour, pausing occasionally to knead his muscles in Matt's back, or to stretch out his legs, or to crouch by the head of the bed and kiss his mouth until his forehead smoothed out.

Matt huffed and puffed, his body jerking like he was being shocked.

"No more, Foggy," Matt panted. The sheets were practically see-through. "I'm done."

Foggy hummed a unconvinced sound and hooked his fingers, and Matt made a quiet little scream like a tea-kettle ready to be taken off the stove.

He chuckled meanly. "Just a little more—WHOA!" The world tilted crazily as Matt exploded out of the blankets and knocked Foggy on his back.

"When," Matt demanded, straddling Foggy and biting at his lips, "did you get to be such a _dick_?"

"Learned it from you," Foggy hummed happily as Matt started to rub against his thigh. "Wait! You shouldn't be out of the blankets!"

"It's a sauna in here, Foggy I'm not going to get a chill."

"No, but." Foggy gestured downward pointlessly. "I can see your—"

"My?"

Foggy gestured again, with more insistence but equal amounts of pointlessness. "You know. Your stuff."

Matt's eyebrows went high and disbelieving. "The same stuff you've been touching all night? You're okay to play me like a fiddle but looking at it is just too much?"

"Oh come on, this is different." Did Foggy actually have to explain to his best friend that glimpsing his porn-star body because he answered the door in his underwear and an open hoodie was not even on the same dimensional plane as what they were doing now?

"You're ridiculous," Matt said fondly, and kissed him again. "Get on the bed."

Matt might have regained enough of his fighting spirit to talk smack, but he still needed support to stretch out on top of the ruined blankets.

The heat in Matt's bedroom must have finally gone to Foggy's lungs, because it was hard to breathe, looking at Matt all laid out like that, from the dark circles under his eyes to the sweat clinging to his leg hair. Eventually, Foggy made the mattress dip with one hesitant knee and settled himself gently over Matt's thighs.

Matt reached up and Foggy tumbled into the kiss, pulled in by Matt's hungry gasps and insistent fingers dug into his shoulders. When he reached for Matt's cock, Matt swatted him away.

"You owe me one more," Foggy murmured, grinning into the kiss and then hissing when sharp teeth sunk into his lip.

"I don't have any more. Unless—"

Foggy pinched Matt's nipple in retaliation and looked into eyes that sparkled with a brightness that had nothing to do with fever. "Unless what?"

"You wanna put your stuff in me?"

Foggy put his head down and roared laughter against Matt's damp chest. "Now, see, if I reward that kind of behaviour by saying yes, what am I teaching you?"

Matt coughed a laugh into the crook of his arm. "But I'm sick!" he started to insist, but his teeth snapped together when Foggy wrapped slick fingers around his cock and stroked.

"Still want me to make you feel all better?" Foggy asked. And what even was his voice, all dark and in-control like that?

Matt bit down on a knuckle and nodded.

Moonlight was streaming in the window now, and it made Matt's sweaty skin shine. This time, getting Matt to orgasm was a bit of a tug of war, because Foggy kept sitting back on his heels to watch Matt's red, glistening cock pushing into the circle of his grip and Matt kept pulling him for kisses, even though he was too far gone to do anything but moan into Foggy's open mouth.

"Ow, what? I want to see," Foggy said, when Matt bit him on the shoulder because he had his head tipped down to peer between their bodies.

Matt tugged at him again with a frown. "I want to kiss."

Foggy fell onto his elbows and kissed Matt like he was stealing oxygen. "Like this?"

"Yeah," babbled Matt, "fuck. Kiss me. Touch me."

"Oh god," Foggy muttered, balancing on one arm and reaching down with the other, "this is taking core strength I don't have."

But Matt wasn't listening. He was clinging, shaking, biting his own mouth and begging to be fucked, so Foggy clenched whatever abdominals could be rallied to the cause and wedged Matt's hips up with his thighs. He pushed his fingers back inside Matt's hot ass and hunched down to let Matt hang from his neck, all the while swirling his fingers over Matt's slippery, overheated cock until Matt's back arched like a bridge and he came, open-mouthed, dotting Foggy's chest with a weak and final squirt of semen.

For a long moment, Matt just lay there, sweat-soaked and splay-legged, his eyeballs not quite rolled back down. Foggy's cock was tucked up between Matt's cheeks, and he could tell when Matt came back from orgasm-land enough to realize this because he started to move his hips.

"Oh shit," Foggy hissed, as Matt's hot skin slipped and slid around him. "What're you doing—Matt, I'm too close—" Too late. Foggy collapsed on his hands on either side of Matt's head and gasped and shook as he soaked Matt's skin. When he came back to himself, Matt was playing with his hair, his face sleepy and peaceful.

"We should probably check your temperature," Foggy said. He was still panting a little from coming in Matt's crack.

"Oh, right." Matt turned his head so that Foggy could insert the reader into his ear. _Beep beep._ 99.5. He'd probably be fine by morning.

"How do you feel?"

"Terrible and great at the same time," Matt said, after a moment's thought. "I smell like you."

"Yeah." Foggy looked down at their bodies, filthy and drenched and stuck together in places. "You should probably shower."

Matt walked himself to the shower unsteadily, but that might have been his sloppy ass more than any lingering weakness. Foggy ran his shaky, be-filthed hands through his hair, found his boxers, and stripped the bed again.

When Matt came back, he did the boys-locker-room trick of pulling his underwear on under his towel. As he got back into bed with Foggy's help, the silence wasn't awkward, but there was a distinct lack of knowing what to say next.

Foggy asked, "do you want me to go?" just as Matt blurted, "will you stay?"

Foggy looked at his feet, shyer than a man who'd been one digit away from fisting his best friend had any right to be. "I'll just shower first, ok?"

Matt flipped back the blanket on the other side of the bed, as if Foggy might have be considering taking the couch. "Be quick," he ordered, and pulled Foggy in for a kiss before wrinkling his nose and pushing him away in the direction of the bathroom.

***

The next morning, Foggy woke up with a fever, a hot toddy on the nightstand, and Matt trying not to look gleeful.

"What did I do to deserve this?" he rasped.

Matt made the bed dip and kissed Foggy's hot forehead. "A lot of bad things, but mostly me," he said, and the bounce in his step was sickening.


End file.
